Page:History of Duncan Campbell, and his dog Oscar (3).pdf/13

 Dewar, the maid of Plora, or the Pedlar of Thirlestane Mill, often have we lain with the bed-clothes drawn over our heads until nearly suffocated. We loved the fairies and the brownies, and even felt a little partiality for the mermaids, on account of their beauty and charming songs; we were a littlolittle [sic] jealous of the water-kelpies, and always kept aloof from the frightsome pools. We hated the devil most heartily, but we were not much afraid of him; but a ghost! oh dreadful! the name ghost, spirit, or apparition sounded in our ears like the knell of destruction, and our hearts sunk within us as if pierced by the cold icy shaft of death. Duncan herded my father’s cows all the summer—so did I—we could not live asunder. We grew fishers so expert, that the speckled trout, with all his art could not elude our machinations; we forced him from his watery cove, admired the beautiful shades and purple drops that were painted on his sleeky sides, and forthwith added him to our number, without the least reluctance. We assailed the habitation of the wild bee, and rifled it of all her accumulated sweets, though not, however, without encountering the most determined resistance. My father’s meadows abounded with hives; they were almost in every swath—in every hillock. When the swarm was large they would beat us off, day after day. In all these engagements, Oscar camocame [sic] to our assistance, and, provided that nononone [sic] of the enemy made a lodgement in his lower defiles, he was always the last combatant of our party on the field. I do not remember of ever being so much diverted by any scene I ever witnessed, or laughing so immoderately as I have done, at seeing Oscar involved in a moving cloud of wild bees, wheeling, snapping on all sides, and shaking his ears incessantly.